For as long as I can remember, he has always been our neighbor. He has been my father's neighbor, my grandfather's neighbor, and the neighbor of his father before him. No, he is not stalking us. Our home has been in our family for generations, and in each of those generations, he has been our neighbor. He hasn't moved and neither have we.

And by he, I don't mean he and his family, for it seem he has none. He has lived alone in his big, Meijin-era house for as long as I can remember, and as long as my grandfather can remember as well. He hasn't changed since my ancestors first met him all those years before. And my family believe him to be a god, a spirit, and they honor him as such. Although we address him as -san instead of -sama, by his request, I'm sure he knows, whenever something of incredible fortune happens to us, we are responsible for the gifts at his gate.

I think my family has every right to think of him as a god. He should be as old as my great-great-great-great granfather, if my ancestor was still alive, and should look just as ancient. Instead, he has been wavering between early-mid twenties for decades. He hasn't aged a day. And ever since we became neighbor, good fortune has blessed our family. My grandfather likes to tell me of a story his family told him. During WWII, our neigbor had personally overseen the evacuation of my family as Allied planes firebombed our city. My great-grandfather was a boy back then but he remembered how each soldier they met just seemed to know who his family was and stumbled over themselves to bring his family to safety. When my great-grandfather asked, filled with childish curiosity, why his family was being aided. His family standing horrified behind him, afraid he had just jinxed all of them. The soldier only laughed and ruffled his hair.

"Honda-san asked us to."

Honda Kiku. Our honored neighbor. Ever since then, as they lived on to rebuild our grand, old house, my family was convinced of his godhood. And they still believe it to this day. My brother just gained entry to Tokyo U. and he credited our honored neighbor for aiding him in his studies. He had been lagging behind in history and had doomed himself to failing the big test, when he met Honda Kiku at the library. He claims Honda Kiku symptahized with his plight and knew just the right book on the Shogunate. Of course, the recommended book had every info he needed and he passed with flying colors.

"It was with Tonari-sama's blessing."

And so on and so forth.

As for me? I don't think Honda Kiku is a god. I think that's just silly. He doesn't have a long nose like a Tengu, or a tail like a Kitsune. He has never displayed magical prowess. I think he's just Kiku-san. Just plain, old Kiku-san.

For as long as we've known him, our family had always been courteous and polite. Nothing but. And yet, we've never invited him for dinner, made small talk, or seen the inside of his house. We respected our 'god' too much. To be so informal would not only be a disgrace, but would seem ungrateful as well. And he had simply done so much for us.

And perhaps, if things had not turned out the way they turned out. If Fate had not intervened. I would be beside my family, discreetly kowtowing behind Kiku-san's back. Except, one day, when I was only five, I personally met Honda Kiku. Or rather, I stumbled into him.

I was playing in our backyard when my ball flew over the wall seperating my house and Kiku-san's. I did the only thing logical in my five-year-old wisdom.

I went after my ball. I snuck into Kiku-san's house. I had thought it would be an easy get-in-get-out mission. Except, my ball wasn't in the yard. I found my ball in his living room, where the sliding, shoji door opened into the yard. And as I reached to get my toy, I stumbled and fell right into Kiku-san's lap.

I was terrified. I thought he would curse me or something equally horrible. I began to apologize profusely but Kiku-san only laughed. He patted me on the head, and returned my ball. It would've ended at that when a Sailor Moon figurine caught my attention. I squealed and before I knew it, we began talking about our favorite Sailor Scouts. I was pleasantly surprised to learn Kiku-san was well-versed in the intricacies of the the Sailor Moon plot. He had even met Naomi Takeuchi! I was so impressed! And we just... lost ourselves from there.

By the time we had finished, it was late afternoon. And my mom was calling me to dinner. I reluctantly said goodbye and Kiku-san, sensing my disappointment, smiled.

"You can come over anytime you please." He had said.

That's when I noticed. How empty his house was. Only old heirlooms lined his shelves and only classical paintings on his walls. There wasn't a single photograph in sight. There are ten rooms in Kiku-san's house. The dining room, the living room, the kitchen, the study, the video game room, and the five bedrooms with Kiku-san to fill them all. And I remembered thinking... Isn't that lonely?

It was with this thought that I found my resolve. A tradition was born. Every day after school, I visited Kiku-san. If only for a few hours at a time, I'd talk about my day and he'd listen. He would understand like no one else could. He would cheer me up after a bad day, and celebrate with me on a good day. He'd show me his newest video games, sometimes games that haven't hit the stores yet. He'd make me sweets and we'd talk about the newest plot twist in the latest volume of Kare Kano. We'd talk about just about everything. How I wanted to be a writer or a manga artist when I grew up, what kind of house I wanted to have, and all the things I wanted to buy, even what my dream guy was like.

Kiku-san listened to it all.

Kiku-san was my best friend.

Through it all, my family was none the wiser. I never deliberately hid from them. But they stayed clueless nonetheless. That might've been for the best, my family would've freaked out otherwise. Besides, I never lied to them. I was at a friend's house.

But... as I grew older, as I entered high school, my visits grew shorter. The time in between grew longer. I was creating a life for myself. I had new friends, I began going out more, I was becoming a teenager. And everything suddenly felt brand new and exciting. I felt so grown-up and Kiku-san was just a thing of the past, something from my childhood.

I would've forgotten about him, except, we live right next to each other. Seeing his house every single day, before I went to school, was a painful reminder of how much I was ignoring him. And one day, I finally gathered the courage to knock on his door once more. I was fully prepared to take the heat, I mean I thought of course he would be angry at me. I usually saw him everyday and now all of a sudden, I barely visited. If I were in his shoes, I would be steaming mad.

Instead, he greeted me at the door as if I hadn't dropped by in weeks. He offered me refreshments like he did whenever I came. There was no tension in the air, he was smiling and ever so pleasant. He asked me how my day went... And did he even notice I was gone? Did he even care? Here I was feeling guilty about leaving him for my new friends, and here he was not even realizing my absence.

I...

I got angry.

I yelled and stomped my feet. Why? You should be angry! You should be mad! You should be interrogating me, asking where I was? Why haven't I visited? Why was I ignoring you? You should be kicking me out! You should be shouting! You should be furious! You should... You should care...

Because I cared.

I cared a lot. I... I wanted him to notice I was gone. I wanted him to be the slightest bit worried. I wanted him to fuss over me and ask me where I've been. I wanted him to care. Because I cared.

Because I missed him.

Because at the end of the day, after going out with my friends, I would peek out my bedroom window and see his house. I would see his bedroom light on and I would think about what he was doing. I would wonder what new video game he was staying up all night playing. I would wonder how much paperwork he must be doing. I would wonder if he was tired. I would wonder if he was hungry. I would wonder if he was thinking of me.

Because I wanted him to think of me.

And I knew I was being selfish, because I was the one who left and not him. But still, I felt betrayed somehow. As if all the time we spent had been nothing, as if he didn't acknowledge me, as if he didn't see me.

It was just, "Oh, you're here again. What's up?"

I didn't want that. I wanted him to pay attention.

I wanted him to care.

So I cried and stormed out of the house. Part of me wanted him to chase after me, part of me wanted him to call my name and beg me to understand. Part of me wanted him to say I was just overreacting and that he did miss me, he missed me dearly.

But he didn't come out. There was just me and the empty street. He wasn't chasing after me. He was letting me go.

I cried that night. I cried long and hard. I didn't go out with my friends the next day or the day after. I stayed in bed for a week.

To this day, I don't know how I got over it. But I got over it. Years passed, I grew up. I graduated from college with a degree in graphic design. I got a tiny apartment in downtown Tokyo. It wasn't home, but it was a roof over my head and a place to sleep in. It was good enough. I met a cute guy at the local bookstore. He was sweet and funny, and we hit it off almost immediately. We started dating. He took me to the movies, bought me presents, and showered me with attention. I was happy.

He proposed to me Christmas that year. Wedding plans were set. I was to be a June bride.

The day before the ceremony, I made a quick visit to my childhood home. I wanted to get something, I forget what, before I moved permanently to my fiance's house. It was also to say goodbye, to my old life, to the carefree days of being a kid. I was an adult now. I was going to have a family soon.

I met Kiku-san on the street that day. He was leaning against our gate. My entire family had vacated the house, preparing some part of my wedding. We were alone.

I will be lying if I said I had forgotten him until that very moment in time. I still thought about him. I'd be at work, fiddling with my notepad or something, when I'd think about what Kiku-san was doing right now. Would he like what he was sketching? Would he be proud of what I was doing? He wasn't a constant thought. But his presence always seemed to lurk, and if I let my mind wander, I would find myself thinking of him.

But thinking of him, and seeing him were two very diffrent things. Seeing him again, after all this time, after I haven't heard from his in so long, it was like I was a high-schooler again. And I was running out of his house, crying my eyes out. I realized, yes, I was still mad at him. But at the same time...

He greeted me softly, like he did whenever I would show up at his doorstep, all those years ago when I was still in elementary school. His smile was still as sweet and warm as I remembered, with a touch of shyness. He really hasn't changed.

He really was a 'god'.

I hated him for it.

He congratulated me on finding a worthy husband. He wished me the best of luck with my marriage. He was ever so polite and cool. And I was just as courteous. It felt like we were strangers. As if there were miles and miles of distance separating us. Not as if I spent the better part of my childhood in his company, talking with him, and laughing with him. Not as if I cried on his shoulder the day my grandfather died, not as if I shared with him every single moment of my first date, not as if I modeled for him my new middle school uniform. As if he hadn't been there being my constant support, not as if he was solely the best friend I could have ever asked for.

"I hate this so much." I cried, on the verge of tears.

It wasn't fair. It was always me changing. It was always me moving away. And he just stood there as if nothing was happening. As if I didn't matter.

That's what I despised so much. It was why I cried that night so long ago when I stormed out of his house. I knew. I knew.

I was leaving him. And that he was letting me go.

I felt tossed aside. Wasn't I his friend? If not, why? Why did you invite me into your house? Why did you listen to me? Why were you always there for me? Didn't he care?

I felt it before I even understood what was going on. That same firm embrace that held me when I was frightened, that held me when I was happy, that held me when I was sad. I remember, that day, before my wedding, Kiku embraced me. He hugged me tight.

"I am the personification of the nation Japan. I have lived for a very long time, for far longer than you can ever imagine. I have seen the rise of emperors and the fall of bloodlines. I have seen the face of war and I have committed sins I have yet to atone for. I have watched the birth of my people and I have watched them die. And yet, I have only been a witness to the lives of my children. A mere observer, watching as they passed me by. I am, and have been, an outsider.

But you. But you, my dearest neighbor, you took me into your world. And for ten splendid years, I partook in your life. You shared with me your precious moments and your worst moments. You depended on me to be there. I was someone important to you. I was a part of your life, like I've never been before. While I had been watching as people rushed around me, you took me by the hand and made me run with you.

You let me live with you."

And slowly, but surely, he loosened his grip. And he stared at me squarely in the eyes.

"That's why I let you go. You've got a bright future ahead of you. You've got a whole life just waiting for you. You have a family to make, new memories to create, places to go, and things to do. And me, I'm not going anywhere. I've been like this for a long time and most likely, continue being the same. I'm not going to change. I'll be right here, always.

So come back, years from now and tell me about your life. Tell me how your children are doing. Are they doing well? Are they going to college soon? Tell me the things you have done and the things you want to do. Tell me of all the things you dreamed of and all the things you have accomplished. Just like you did before.

My greatest joy is in sharing your happiness and sadness. My greatest joy is having been there for you. My greatest joy was living with you.

So please, dearest neighbor, live.

Live."

He kissed me on the forehead, so gently it made me cry. And I sobbed into his arms. Because I knew. I knew why I wanted him to notice me, why I wanted him to care. I loved him. I loved him so much. And...

And I wanted him to be happy.

To this day, I have forgotten what I was going to get in that big, old house of mine. But I left with what I needed.

live

So, I did.

tonari- neighbor